


a recipe for disaster

by flyingfingertips



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, This is a batfam fic, also it's happy!, batfam, batfamily, canon is pick and choose lol don't expect consistency to the comics, light hearted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 05:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15017384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingfingertips/pseuds/flyingfingertips
Summary: In a (possibly misguided) attempt to do some family bonding, Alfred has planned an evening of mystery, intrigue, and fun. What he didn't plan was the outrageous misuse of fondue, bribery, at least a couple of maybe-real-but-hopefully-not threats, and more. Things never really do seem to work out the way you plan them when you're at Wayne Manor.





	a recipe for disaster

**Author's Note:**

> don't take this too seriously. it's meant to just be fun. that being said, if there is something seriously wrong, please let me know. i wouldn't want to be "That Person" over anything. i don't think this story will have any potentially triggering things or anything of the sort, but if it does i will let you know. enjoy!

       “Hey Alfred, I got your text!” Stephanie Brown called, bounding down the steps toward the dining room. “What was it you wa-” She cut off as she opened the door, taking in the scene. “What’s going on?” The dining room was apparently set up for a formal meal, complete with candles and name cards. “Are we having guests over?”

       “It’s more of a… family dinner,” Alfred said, appearing out of what seemed like nowhere. He was carrying a platter of rolls and wearing what seemed to be a cheaply made wig.

       “That sounds more than a little ominous,” Steph said as she tried to grab a roll off the plate. A steely glance from Alfred stopped her in her tracks. “And what’s with the wig? More importantly, what’s with the boxes?” At every person’s place there was a large, nondescript box. Each was tied with a ribbon that matched the colour scheme of the dinner guest’s alterego. Steph’s white box, fastened with a strip of eggplant purple, sat next to a box tied with black that she assumed belonged to Cass.

       “You’ll find out once everyone gets here. Please, have a seat and be patient.” Alfred turned and started walking back toward the kitchen. Sensing that this might be her chance, Steph reached for the rolls that were now placed on the table right in front of her. Without looking behind him, Alfred dryly said, “Don’t even think about it. I’ve counted them.” Huffing in defeat, Steph sat back in her chair just as a young boy walked in.

       “I have been summoned. What is this all about?” Damian Wayne said, absentmindedly twirling a dagger.

       “No idea. Alfred refuses to tell me anything and won’t even let me have a roll!” Stephanie raised her voice at the last part and looked pointedly at the door leading to the kitchen. Alfred came back out with a large pitcher in his hands.

       “Miss Brown, if you would kindly refrain from yelling at the person who prepares your food, I assure you that the evening will turn out better.” His gaze shot to Damian who was staring at two boxes, obviously trying to decide which was his. “Patience, Master Damian, is a virtue. You will know which place is yours when the time is right.” With that, Alfred turned around and marched back into the kitchen.

       “I’ve got it!” Stephanie exclaimed. Damian looked at her like he was half curious and half positive that she’d gone mad. Leaning closer to Damian, Steph whispered “Alfred has finally snapped. He’s a villain now. He’s using this guise of family dinner to get us all in one place and then…” She clapped her hands together suddenly and sighed. “You know, these things are more fun if you actually reacted like a human. One flinch. That’s all I’m asking for. Maybe I can get Tim to program a “Flinch For Stephanie” protocol into your robot brain.”

       Damian let out a noise that would most closely be categorized as a growl and narrowed his eyes. From his pocket, he drew the dagger that he was playing with earlier, the silver blade glinted dangerously. The pair, like almost any moment they were left together, were seconds from disaster when a familiar voice called out.

       “Hello?” Dick Grayson walked into the dining room and stopped in his tracks when he saw the knife. “Damian, what have we said about weapons at the dinner table?” For a moment, it seemed like nothing would happen, but with a second (and slightly more annoyed) growl, Damian put the dagger back in his pocket. “‘Sup Steph?”

       “Not much, I just hope that Alfred will let me drink during whatever this is,” Stephanie eyed the wine rack deviously and grinned at Dick.

       “We both know you’re not old enough-”

       “Or mature enough!”

       “Yes, thank you Damian.” Dick tossed a glance towards his younger brother. “Or mature enough to drink.”

       Stephanie responded by rolling her eyes and making a face at the two boys. Not exactly wanting to be teased anymore by Damian or lectured by Dick, she decided to exam the box she was given more closely. Stephanie was careful not to open it as she was certain that if she did, Alfred would do a lot more than deny her a dinner roll. The box was, like most of the other boxes, white. The only notable exception to this rule was the black box at the head of the table that she assumed belonged to Bruce. The box was surprisingly light, Stephanie noted, though it did seem like it had many objects inside. Shaking the box lightly, she could hear rustling and something sliding around. If she was going to be honest, Stephanie was half convinced that this whole “family dinner” was some kind of training exercise and that whatever was in the boxes were probably bad news. Sighing, Stephanie put the box back on the table. She was just about to see if she could get any more answers from Alfred when Tim walked in. He looked terrible (which is something she could say, as his best friend).

       “As your best friend, I feel like I’m obligated to tell you how awful you look,” Stephanie said with a slight grimace. She definitely wasn’t lying. Tim looked bad. The kind of bad that only comes with multiple attempts of substituting cold showers and five hour energy shots for an actual good night's sleep. Steph could see Damian out of the corner of her eye. His face had lit up and he leaned towards Tim, obviously ready to lash out with a verbal (or very possibly, physically) smackdown regarding his current state. Very pointedly, Stephanie went on: “And as your best friend, I’m the only one who gets to comment on your appearance and I will fight anybody else who tries to.” 

           “I’m not sure who you’re fighting but I’m in,” Jason Todd entered the room and surveyed its occupants. “Okay, I’m pretty sure I know who you’re fighting now, but I’m still in.” At seeing yet another person enter the dining room, Damian let out an exasperated sigh. “This is ridiculous. I can’t believe that Alfred invited all of you…” The young heir struggled to find the right word. “ _Heathens_ into my home.”

       “Last time I checked, I paid the bills,” a deep yet not unpleasant voice said. “Which would make this lovely estate _my_ home.” Bruce Wayne strolled into the room trailed by a grinning Cassandra Cain. Steph ran over to her friend and pulled Cass back to their seats, already asking her if she had any idea what could be in the boxes. “It’s good to see all of you in one place and not at each other's throats.” Bruce nodded to his children and his children by proxy before taking his seat at the table.

       “So… you got any idea what all this is about, B?” Dick asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. Bruce just shook his head.

       “Alfred will let us know when he’s ready.”

       “And when will that be?” Jason grumbled, totally ignoring the fact that he was among the last to arrive and hasn’t been waiting for very long.

       “When everyone gets here, I would assume,” Bruce stated in a matter of fact tone that, even though they would never admit it, made everyone at the table feel just a little bit ridiculous for not thinking of first.

       “My apologies, I wasn’t aware that I was making everyone wait,” Barbara Gordon said as she rolled into the dining room. The room filled with a chorus of “Hey Babs!” and “Good to see you, Barbara” as Barbara made her way to her seat. The family sat there for a moment in silence. Every member was exchanging looks with another from across the table wondering what was so important that they were all called out when the door connecting the dining room to the kitchen burst open.

       Standing in the doorway stood Alfred. His head was down, causing the cheap wig he was wearing to forward off his head and he was holding what looked to be a big white envelope. Without warning, he collapsed on the ground and a red spot started blooming on his perfectly tailored tuxedo shirt. Everyone at the table rushed to him in a panic. While Dick and Tim were busy trying to find a pulse or a wound, Bruce picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside was a single piece of paper that read: _“The First Annual Wayne/Bat Family Murder Mystery Dinner Party Starts Now. Trust No One. You Are All Suspects. Inside Your Boxes You Will Find A Character, A Change Of Clothes, And A Secret. Await Further Instructions. Good Luck.”_

**Author's Note:**

> i hoped you liked it! please leave feedback as i need validation to survive (that's a joke pls don't hate me) but i actually would like to grow as a writer and feedback is a great way to do that. have a great day!


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